


1965

by hirayaart



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirayaart/pseuds/hirayaart
Summary: What if...after everything...Truth at least granted their one wish?
Relationships: Edward Elric & Team Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	1965

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: Inspired by @waddiwasiwitch's beautiful and extremely moving prose in Unforgiven.
> 
> A/N 2: Please bear with me as I understand that laws are very, very different across the world. Arguments below are loosely based on international laws, some local laws where I’m from, and laws that did not (but later did) exist in world history. Wouldn’t have been able to write this all out without you @firewoodfigs!
> 
> Playlists:  
> Dunkirk - "Variation 15" and "End Titles"  
> Violet Evergarden - "One Last Message", "Wherever You Are, Wherever You May Be", "Always Watching Over You"

_ April 19, 1965 _

“Geez,” Edward Elric chuckled solemnly to himself as he brushed his hat against his chest. “That bastard colonel never changed. Made his funeral arrangements complicated for me by retiring out west and then getting hospitalized all the way over here.”

Ed placed gloved hands against his forehead as he looked up at the sky. His eyes met the rays of the sun and he smiled. “At least this country you so loved gave you such a beautiful day to say goodbye…”

Ed, now in his old age with streaks of silver weaving into his characteristically golden hair, found himself in the middle of Central City on a cool Thursday afternoon in April. The country of Amestris was in full bloom, and every little town and city surely mirrored Central. Ed walked leisurely through the streets against the gentle winds that carried the sounds and smells of spring. Children ran past him, some being chased by worried mothers or peeved older siblings. Along the sidewalks on both sides vendors negotiated trade with their buyers over stalls of delightful street food, handicraft, and fresh flowers from across the country. Groups of school friends made their way through the crowds arm-in-arm, and couples held each other at the waist and shoulders giggling at the sweet nothings exchanged between them in whispers. The energy was contagious, and for Ed, it was truly the most beautiful time to be in Central.

_ This was your dream, wasn’t it, colonel? _ He thought quietly, eyes glistening at the thought of his former superior and still accustomed to the ranking title he had when Ed delisted from the military.  _ And you actually went and did it. _

Continuing towards Central City Hospital, Ed realized that even after fifty years, he still had not gotten used to seeing such a reduced number of Military Police stationed at every corner. As soon as the government was overthrown on the Promised Day and Grumman took over as Führer, he and the new board he handpicked, along with his trusted apprentice Brigadier General Roy Mustang and his team, immediately began laying the groundwork to transition the country into a democracy. 

But doing so did not come without more pain. 

At the time, Ed was barely 17. Although he had seen Truth, every possible outcome of the world and every iteration of success and failure that could manifest in the future, one of the most pressing things on his mind was how the Mustang unit would be tried for multiple crimes spanning their whole tenure in the military. Many of these crimes were at the time still subject to capital punishment. The likes of the crimes committed by Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery were relatively easy to pardon, but only in contrast to the crimes of the Ishvalan war veterans--then 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and of course... _ Hero _ of Ishval, Colonel Roy Mustang. 

As the city hospital came into view, Ed’s mind began to drift towards a distant memory, on a late night when he was simply making a stop through Ishval after visiting his brother in Xing.

_ “You  _ can’t _ be serious, Roy Mustang!” _

_ Everyone in the room, the entire Mustang unit and Ed, shot glances at the flustered captain, whose hazel eyes were fiery and wide, and whose entire body was trembling from what was undoubtedly sheer anger. _

_ “May I remind you not to forget your place, captain,” Mustang responded, every ounce of his energy going into keeping his voice calm while he met his personal adjutant’s eyes. _

_ Yet, nothing hurt him more than seeing her this way all over again.  _

_ His duty to the country was pulling him away from her plea, and onto a particular document on his desk--a document that detailed key legislative structural components of the new government he and Führer Grumman were reviewing, including a grant of immunity to the heads of state during their period of incumbency. This particular line was not new law, however Mustang, who had literally meant to just keep the thoughts to himself, had pondered the application of that law to him out loud. He toyed with the idea to amend it such that it could be waived under ‘certain conditions.’  _

_ This of course was received unfavorably by the team, and it had turned into a heated debate. It even seemed in the moment that all had forgotten that the older Elric in the room was no longer military, and whatever he heard could easily reach the wrong ears. Not that Ed would ever slip so terribly. He hardened his resolve in the moment and stayed, wishing for an amicable conclusion to the controversial tangle of threads that Mustang and Hawkeye found themselves in. _

_ “Those laws exist to protect the heads of state,  _ general,”  _ Hawkeye said haltingly. “They exist to protect them from their political enemies and other malicious intent. What is the  _ point _ in amending them?” _

_ “We had this discussion a long time ago,” Mustang replied, his own gaze hardening and still extremely conscious that other constituents of his team were in the room and bearing witness to their superiors’ raw emotions. “The risk of changing this government comes with a trial for each of us-- _ all _ of us. And we have to face the consequences, no matter the gravity.” _

_ “You are  _ insufferable!” _ Hawkeye’s voice broke, at a pitch much higher than anyone was accustomed to. _

_ For a moment, even Mustang looked too stunned to speak. _

_ “It’s one thing to have courage and face your charges,” Hawkeye continued. “It’s  _ another _ thing to do that without at least having  _ your head _ in the right place, as well as  _ reasonable _ legal structure to protect you and ensure this doesn’t turn into just another _ manslaughter!”

_ “Captain--” _

_ “ _ Stop, _ for just one moment, please!” Hawkeye rose from her chair and motioned towards her superior, her eyes imploring the man in front of her. “The moment this government transitions into a democracy, the military loses its power. That completely changes the game and the people you’ll be up against. If you amend the law so unfavorably you change the course of the future too far and too much. You even rob those who will succeed you of their constitutional rights.” _

_ “If we let the people decide, then at least we’ll have come full circle honorably.” _

“This _ is not the only way to come full circle honorably, general!” _

_ Mustang held her gaze, but he could already feel that seeing his most valuable subordinate so desperate, so breathless and so incessant, could bring his walls down.  _

_ His gaze softened but his jaw was fixed rigid, his back still ramrod straight as he struggled to find the words that might offer any form of consolation.  _ She is, as always...too smart and too strong.

_ Always. Was that not the reason that Mustang chose her to be his aide in the first place?  _

_ “General…” _

_ Mustang’s eyes moved hesitantly past Hawkeye’s, who had also turned to see who interrupted.  _

_ It was Captain Vato Falman. _

_ “Sir, please,” the man continued without waiting for permission. “These thoughts you’re playing around with are, I’m afraid, far too delicate to make a single pass such as this. If you do succeed in turning Amestris into a democracy, the first thing to change will be our military power. The people become higher ranking than any of us, and unless we are at war, we answer to them.  _

_ So you are correct, sir. We can turn to the people to decide your fate, but even then it remains to be seen--will you be Führer by the time the transition is complete, or will you be...President?” _

_ Mustang’s eyes narrowed. _

_ “If you are president,” Falman pressed on, his hands together and trembling, “Then you can only be put on trial if you are first impeached. Even that must be initiated by the people, and not even your political enemies. Once this happens, the courts share the power of the senate that eventually sees your trial through. _

_ If you are Führer, and it is still the military that initiates your trial, you  _ must _ and, sir I insist that you  _ must,”  _ Falman paused and gave the hardest stare he dare ever did to a superior officer, “All the more maintain your immunity for your own good. Even if it is questionable whether we can extend that immunity to cover your war crimes--” _

_ Ed’s eyes softened towards Falman, realizing that his use of prepositions had become more personal through his use of ‘we’.  _

_ “Even if, general,” Falman insisted, his voice still, but barely, “Even if the laws will in any way change, whether to reconsider that you we acting according to your duties to the State  _ at the time, _ whether the war crimes of Ishval will be reinstated as simply ‘crimes’ or at best, though whimsical, decriminalized--there is even the implication that perhaps not even the people of Amestris but specifically Ishval must initiate your trial, or the trial is invalidated altogether.” _

_ Silence swelled into the room, and no one said anything for a painstaking ten seconds before Mustang made his poor attempt at dry humor. “You’ve spent a surprising amount of time putting this together, Falman?” _

_ “And you should be grateful, too!” _

_ Eyes back to the other captain. _

_ “You ask us to follow you until you reach the top, and we vowed to do so without faltering. We were split up like your broken chess pieces and yet here we are, back where we belong.” Hawkeye turned her broad shoulders back towards her superior as if to emphasize her stand yet again. _

_ “By the time I make it to the top, captain,” Mustang said, purposefully gentler, “Your duties will be fulfilled.” _

_ “And  _ that _ is how you intend to have us move forward? Without you?” _

_ “You’re starting to take this a lot more personally--” _

“You are absolutely right, Colonel Mustang!” _ Hawkeye nearly spat her deliberate use of older rank. “Our goals, our promise to beloved Amestris, was  _ always _ personal,” she said, her words coming out in hisses. “We are only bigger than our battles as a  _ team.  _ Had The Promised Day fallen short of providing you any semblance of evidence? How  _ careless _ can you be about your future?” _

_ Mustang paled, and suddenly it was as if he could see Truth take His place in Hawkeye. His mind’s eye reeled as he watched the ominous, almost shapeless being--shapeless save for his sardonic smile-- _ blindness is the punishment for those who dream carelessly of the future.

So it’s down to this moment, is it... _ he thought to himself, suddenly present to just how almost-laughable the situation was. He continued to study his adjutant’s face, the way her warm eyes gleamed with hope and hurt and seemingly stared deeply into his dark, apologetic soul. He watched her search him, again implore him, but also  _ berate  _ him for how stupid he was in this moment. He watched her broad shoulders hold steady, as if they were the last thing keeping the rest of her frame from coming apart under the weight of her own sentiment--sentiment that was undoubtedly due to her unbending concern for his welfare. _

_ How in the world did he ever come to deserve what he had in Riza Hawkeye? _

_ She was and always had been his rock. From the nights he spent staying up late in the Hawkeye estate, going over alchemical formulas and balancing their equations until they met fundamental law and rendered him something useful, to every morning he spent trudging into his Eastern HQ office, frustrated at the sore lack of talent in the ranks that he could barely find men to recruit into what he wanted as his personal team.  _

_ And to this very moment, years after the Promised Day and the bargain he had made with Truth that had cost him his vision. _

_ Perhaps, after all...he was still blind. _

He’d be laughing at me, wouldn’t he, _ Mustang thought to himself. _ Laughing that I only had the chance at sight again because I used human souls to get it back. 

_ He couldn’t help but wonder, now that his vision had returned and he could dream for the future anew, did he not still deserve punishment? Mustang truly, genuinely, and very deeply felt that life had not punished him enough, if it all. _

_ If only because he had Hawkeye--Riza. If only because he had his Riza. _

_ Thus for self-pity, almost...for lack of anything better to offer, Mustang lowered his head and tore his gaze away from the woman who, in this whole bloody earth, would be the only reason he would really step down from a fight. _

_ “Impossible,” Hawkeye said, her voice pained and thin. _

_ Mustang kept his eyes on the corner of his desk as he heard her footsteps march off followed by the slam of the door. _

_ Ed’s lips fixed into a thin line as his eyes scanned the remaining faces in the room. Falman had long since lowered his own head and the grip he had on his hands seem to have tightened. Even First Lieutenant Heymans Breda seemed to be struggling to keep his usual stoic expression as he placed a gentle hand on Master Sergeant Kain Fuery’s back, who had taken his glasses off and held two fingers to the bridge of his nose while his other hand held his frames and rested on his knees. _

_ Officer-in-Charge, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc threw his cigarette into a tray and rose from his place next to Ed. “General,” he said quietly, “I have to say this is the second time I will refuse to agree with you.”  _

_ When Mustang still did not respond, Havoc let himself out of the room. Ed knew he would be going after Hawkeye. _

_ As soon as Havoc shut the door, Ed rose from his seat and looked solemnly at Mustang. _

_ “What are you looking at, Fullmetal…” _

_ “When we were down there in the deepest basement of Father’s place…” Ed said darkly. “You literally placed Miss Hawkeye at the fork between shooting you and killing even herself. Even in your honor...you’re a selfish man.” _

_ “Don’t talk to me like that--” _

_ “Well consider this practice for your democractic government, you bastard!” Ed cut him off, his voice rising. “Let’s say for this moment that as a dog of the military you can’t ask me to shut up, for once. What did I tell you when I refused to return your 520 cenz?” _

_ Mustang could barely keep his face from crumpling in frustration and he barely afforded a sharp look towards Ed. _

_ “I told you,” Ed said deliberately, “To  _ not _ upset Miss Hawkeye.” _

_ Ed watched as Mustang placed a hand on the documents on his desk and brought them below his line of vision. Ed could almost see the thoughts swimming in the other man’s thick head. _

_ “What good are you to this country dead, general,” Ed said, more quietly.  _ “Useless  _ bastard.” _

_ And much like Ed’s own trigger word ‘short’, the corner of Mustang’s mouth twitched only slightly. When the superior officer looked back up at his younger but also more hot headed counterpart, the look in his eyes had already changed. _

Ed stopped at the stairs leading up to the entrance of the hospital and almost laughed at himself. “Funny what old age can do to a mortal man,” he said, fanning himself with his hat. “Stupid  _ colonel, _ should’ve just stayed in one place.”

Ed was greeted by a guard on his way inside and he offered a tip of his hat. He walked up to the reception desk. “Good day, sir,” he said.

A young dark haired man looked up and smiled, “Good afternoon. Are you here for an appointment?”

“Actually, I’m here to pick up the belongings of our former president,” Ed said sheepishly. “Doctor Stefan Nicholls told me to come by at this time.”

“Mr. Edward Elric!” the receptionist said, eyes widening with realization. “My apologies, sir, I  _ was _ told to expect you. Please have a seat and Dr. Nicholls will be right down--”

“Mr. Elric?”

Ed and the receptionist looked to the side to see a middle-aged man in a white coat walking over. 

“That’s correct,” Ed offered.

“I’m Doctor Nicholls, sir,” the doctor offered a kind smile and extended a hand.

“Just figured,” Ed smiled back and accepted the hand. “This young chap was just about to call you.”

“Right,” Dr. Nicholls looked at the receptionist and nodded his thanks. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Ed nodded and followed the doctor to one of the plush couches in the familiar hospital lobby. He was unsure how to proceed from this point, and realized that his mind was buzzing with memories of past events and words exchanged over the last fifty years. Ed kept a questioning gaze on the doctor until he began the conversation.

“Are you alone, Mr. Elric?”

“Oh, my son will be around in the next thirty minutes at least,” Ed said. “You mentioned we had to pick up some things, so I thought I’d ask him to bring a car.”

“Ah,” Dr. Nicholls said apologetically. “I should have clarified. Actually most of the mister and missus’ belongings are likely still in their retirement home. But there were clear instructions to give you this…”

Ed swallowed as Dr. Nicholls took out a velveteen pouch from his coat pocket. 

“They were a kind and simple couple,” the doctor said softly. “Nothing else to contain these things but a pouch.”

Ed took the pouch delicately in his hands and undid the drawstring. He slid the contents onto his palm.

Mustang’s State Alchemist pocket watch, two wedding bands, and a folded sheet of paper.

Ed let out a breath quietly as his gaze went over the combination of intimate belongings. He felt his eyes well and he swallowed again. “Is this his last will and testament?” he asked, holding up the sheet of paper.

Dr. Nicholls’ regard for the older man softened. “It’s actually theirs, together,” he said kindly. “Insisted on every last moment doing things together.”

“That’s nice,” Ed said, a weak chuckle escaping him. “One of them was always a step or two behind or ahead. Good to know they shifted the dynamic eventually…”

As a comfortable silence enveloped the two men, Dr. Nicholls slowly considered his leave. “Shall I let you read the will on your own, Mr. Elric? I’ll come back to arrange everything else when your son arrives.”

Ed nodded but did not look up. As Dr. Nicholls rose, he began to unfold the sheet of paper. Its contents were in beautiful cursive handwriting and Ed smiled as he recognized the penmanship that belonged to none other than the former lieutenant.

_ Ed, _

_ We wish we could have given you this in person. Thank you for taking care of us one last time. _

_ Our only wish is you take into possession Roy’s pocket watch and our wedding bands. The pocket watch is for your grandson, of course, to encourage him in his alchemy studies. We weren’t sure how to give our wedding bands their next life. Please do what you see fit. _

_ We’ve already made arrangements for the rest of our belongings to go to charity. Roy knew you wouldn’t appreciate having to go back and forth Pendleton-- _

Ed let out a small laugh and realized sparing tears that had already dropped onto the letter. He read on as the penmanship abruptly changed to something of a heavier hand.

_ Fullmetal, _

_ Thank you. _

Ed rested an elbow on his knee, closed his fingers around the pocket watch and rings and brought them to his lips.

He began to cry.

* * *

_ April 18, 1965 _

Central’s hospital was all too familiar. Each time Riza found herself in one, it was either to watch over her charge, or to be watched by her charge, for injuries sustained in the line of duty. Although tonight, as things had been for the past three days, both she and her charge were in hospital beds, only close enough so that they could reach for each other’s hands and say something occasionally. Anything. So that one might be reassured of the other’s presence.

_ Still here. _

In their old age, there was really not much left to be said as they waited to go back to sleep.

“Roy?”

Roy barely opened an eye and turned his head, a small smile creeping on his lips. “Yes, my Riza?”

Riza smiled and offered a weak laugh. “Look at us…”

“I am looking…”

_ “Look at us,” Riza giggled. She  _ giggled, _ much to Roy’s amusement. _

_ “I  _ am _ looking!”  _

_ Riza quickly finished her work on Roy’s bowtie and pressed her hands against his chest. Tonight, on October 21st in the year 1922, was the gala dinner following Roy’s inauguration as President of Amestris. They had long since delisted from their military ranks, partially due to the transfer of power and Roy’s dedication, but also because doing so would allow them to pursue much more intimate and personal plans… _

_ Roy looked down to meet the eyes of his beloved, and took in the  _ sight  _ of her. How could he begin to tell her? Where would he even find the words? The way she looked up at him with her familiar, sure and steady gaze in this moment almost enveloped him and soothed what was his unusually high heart rate. He drank this moment in, this spared and rare moment where he had her to himself in the privacy of a presidential drawing room. He drank it all up like it was fine wine, feeling as though it gave him the same effects, let him breathe, brought his screaming anxious thoughts to a hum... _ His Excellency, President Roy Mustang, addresses the country of Amestris tonight--

_ Her silence brought him ever closer to the present and to himself. He brought his hands to fold over hers that were still pressed to his chest, and he squeezed them assuredly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. _

_ He watched her fondly as she let out another small giggle, this time one that sounded accusatory.  _ You’re a lying flirt, _ he could almost hear her say. Neither was far from the truth. He  _ was  _ often a lying flirt. Anything to advance his agenda.  _

_ But she was diaphanous, and deceivingly so. _

_ She was delicate, but only his eyes, and only because he knew who she truly was. To anyone else, she was fiery, untouchable, and a distant reminder of a very  _ specific  _ lineup of gunmen in the Amestrian military of yesteryears. Roy took his time to notice every inch of her, beginning from her golden tresses that he had seen through the years cut boyishly short and grown attractively long past her shoulders. She had curled it to one side of her neck and pinned it into an elegant chignon. Her dress was presidential, fitting for a First Lady-- _ but she wasn’t First Lady yet. _ Deep blue sleeves hugged her arms until just above her elbows, and the bodice hugged her figure and only cinched at the waist. As his eyes made his way down her body, he almost smiled at the characteristic slit up her thigh. He knew, as did everyone else who had ever seen The Hawk’s Eye in action, that it served nothing more than a utilitarian purpose. _

_ That was one part of her skirt Roy would dare not venture his hand up. _

_ “They’re waiting for you.” _

_ Roy looked up and realized that she had been meaning to bring him back to the duty at hand. “Are you ready, President Mustang?” she said softly. _

_ Roy took a breath and brought one of her hands to his lips. He closed his eyes and spoke as if to promise, “If I know you’re two paces behind me, I’ll  _ always _ be ready.” _

Riza’s gaze passed over Roy’s face, as she had done for so, so, so many years. She knew every line, every detail, every wrinkle that could trace back to his characteristic frown. It had always been strange to her even after all this time, that despite all of her shortcomings and misgivings in her wretched life, she was given the rest of it to spend with the man she knew she always loved.

They never had children. This was why they were alone at this very moment. But dedicating themselves to public service, even after Roy’s last tenured position in government, was more than enough to maintain their happiness. For as long as she could remember, there was only ever him. Roy Mustang, and everyone else in their lives that they could consider themselves responsible for.

Riza’s mind replayed images of young Winry offering her a cup of tea in her home in Resembool, the Elric brothers at the time when she first saw their broken bodies, until the day she saw them whole again. She smiled at the memory of when she and her then still-superior Brig. Gen. Mustang attended Alphonse and Mei Chang’s wedding in Xing. 

“I think, Riza,” Roy said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “I do think there is a God.”

“What makes you say now?”

“Only God could have made life so beautiful,” came the fading response. “Made it beautiful because He allowed me to have you…”

Riza closed her eyes and immediately felt warm tears run down her face. She squeezed her partner’s hand ever tighter.

This time, he did not squeeze back.

“I love you, Roy.”

“I love you, too,” Roy said, fading more now, and almost completely. “But tell me again later.”

Riza smiled, and purposefully kept her eyes closed. 

“I will.”


End file.
